A Symposium
by Cymberline
Summary: Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall have taken to a new Friday night tradition: drinking together excessively.


A crazy one-shot written in honour of: gin drinking, the man who is the Dumbledore to my McGonagall, being Gryffindor, drunken rants and being a teacher.

That is all ^__^

Oh, and just as a point of interest:

A Symposium is a conversation/conference that usually takes place after dinner. the Ancient Greeks were particularly famous for them. Traditionally, only men were invited. They usually involved, in laymens terms, heavy drinking and impassioned ranting (whilst lazing about on a lounge). A very famous text written by Plato by the name of Symposium has a lot of interesting stuff in it. I suggest wikipedia! Look up the section about Aristophane's 'origins of love', it could be a great prompt.

* * *

A knock came on Albus Dumbledore's door very late on Friday evening.

"Come in," He called, his voice pleasant, the scratching of quill on paper audible to the woman who waited outside,

"Good evening Albus," Minerva McGonagall greeted, taking the seat across from him

"Good evening, Minerva." He placed his quill down, "What can I do for you at such a late hour?"

Minerva sighed, and passed a hand over her hair, "It's been a long week, Headmaster."

"Tell me about it," Albus sighed too, and got to his feet. He strode around to a large oak cabinet situated at the back of the office, "Which of the students have been giving you trouble?"

"All of them!" She grumbled, "They've changed since my day, Albus. I don't know where they've gotten all this attitude from,"

Albus laughed, "My _dear_ Minerva! If I remember correctly, you yourself possessed a great deal of attitude in your youth,"

"And yet, you never made me prefect," She countered, smiling slightly

"Well, only because you spent far too much time sneaking out of the castle."

"And around it," She added fairly, "I have always loathed being bored."

"Quite," He replied, placing a tall tumbler of gin down in front of her, "Night cap?"

"Yes, certainly," She picked up the tumbler and toasted him it, "To your good health,"

"To yours," He replied, clinking his tumbler against her own, and then they both drained them down.

"Gaaah," She exclaimed, coughing slightly, "Merlin, Albus. Not that enchanted stuff again,"

Albus smiled pleasantly and sipped his second glass, "Yes indeed, my dear, that enchanted stuff again," He turned slightly and aimed his wand at an old record player. A mellow jazz began to play.

She sighed, and watched as her glass refilled itself, "This gin and I do not get along very well,"

"On the contrary, I feel you get along swimmingly," Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress grinned at one another at the shared joke. Minerva gave a rather reckless shrug of her shoulders, and shot back the rest of her drink,

"Oh, I suppose you're right. We _do_ get along rather well," She smirked at Dumbledore, and raised her refilled glass, "To old, dear friends!"

* * *

"And so Albus, I said to him, 'You listen here, Severus Snape. I remember when you CAME to Hogwarts and you were a sneeze of a boy in old robes, following around that Lily Evans! I remember that boy Sevvy! And he wasn't good at much of anything, especially Quidditch! So don't you come into the staff room and make snide remarks about Gryffindor's Quidditch team!'" Minerva McGonagall was well into her seventh glass of enchanted gin, going glass for glass with Albus Dumbledore. The witch and wizard, who usually exuded an aura of complete composure, were not looking, or acting, composed in the least. Albus' glasses were askew on his nose, his cheeks very flushed and his eyes rather unfocused. Minerva's hair was worrying its way out of her tight bun, and her spectacles sat rather crookedly too. They both looked rather mad.

He snorted with laughter at her rant, exclaiming "Oh you did not, Minerva!"

"I did so!" She insisted, "I told him he was a greasy, ex-Death Eater git!"

Albus Dumbledore raised a silver eyebrow in question, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly. He held her gaze steadily, barely containing his desire to laugh. Minerva looked away and grumbled to herself, then said, "Well maybe I didn't say it out loud, Albus, but I said it in my heart, and that was what was important."

Albus shook his head, chuckling "You, Minerva, are drunk!"

"I am not!" She protested, "You're drunk! Far drunker than me, you old sod!"

"Please, dear, I can hold my gin!" He hiccupped as he said this, ruining the desired effect. The two old teachers smirked at one another, moving on to commiserate with their 8th glass of gin.

"You know, Albus. I very much respect you," She told him gravely, sipping her drink, "I think you're a great man, and you were an excellent Transfiguration professor,"

"Oh poppycock," He told her, "You're far better with the students than I am, and very well-liked,"

"Sure," She scoffed, "They don't like me; they're terrified of me."

"They're not," He told her gently, "Though, Min, with your hair like that, you do look rather terrifying."

She gasped and clutched at her dishevelled bun, aghast at being called 'Min' and having her hair insulted all in the same breath, "How dare you! Look at your hair!" She slurred, gesturing to him

"Yes, and isn't it spectacular?" He said, smiling fondly at a silver lock, "I've always thought it my best feature,"

"Arrogance is your best feature, Headmaster," She told him, slumping slightly downwards in her chair, a crooked smile on her face and her gin firmly in her hand "Arrogance, and your crooked nose!"

Dumbledore hummed pleasantly and didn't reply, drinking down the rest of his gin contentedly, "You know Min, I think I rather like this tradition we're developing."

She snorted, "What, getting extremely drunk on enchanted gin bought for you by Fudge?"

"He's thanking me Minerva!" He said, mock-stern, "For all the advice I give him and the time I devote to answering his insipid questions about running the country. It's a present, and I accept it graciously,"

She shook her head, "Oh you loathe presents! Bugger the gin! And bugger giving him advice! Tell him to sod off, I say," Her words were, once again, rather slurred.

"But then we'd have no gin, dear" He explained, "And what would we do then?"

"This is true," She replied, toasting him with her glass, "That would be very boring,"

"Indeed. We'd have buy it ourselves, Merlin help us. Or drink what's left in that shelf. I swear, some of it has been there for at least 40 years. Alastor gave me that Firewhiskey that you can see there about 40 years ago now; I've never liked the stuff. Then there's the wine. That elf-made wine is terribly strong though, we can't drink that,"

"Well, we'd have to pour it into the glasses ourselves, for one," She said reasonably, "And that'll be a pain as it is,"

"We'd enchant the bottle!" He proclaimed, "And it would do it for us!"

"I suppose we could!" She agreed, "Perhaps the wine next time, Headmaster?"

"Perhaps indeed." He smiled and leaned back in his chair, "Though, Min, I am rather fond of that wine, so perhaps not?"

"Oh lovely etiquette!" She roared, almost knocking her glass off the desk in indignation "Chivalry is truly dead,"

"Indeed," He mused, his eyes twinkling, "Indeed,"

She eyed him a second, and then rolled her eyes"Ah, Albus," She sighed into her glass, "There are dark times ahead."

"Mmm," He mused, nodding his head, "But aren't there always?"

"No!" She fumed, "When I was young, it was fine. The only trouble was Grindewald, but you took care of him." Albus said nothing, but gave her the barest of smiles

"I thought you were such a hero, you know," She told him earnestly, giving him a lopsided, affectionate smile

He laughed, "I was just lucky, Minerva. It could've gone either way,"

"Rot and bollocks," She said squarely, putting her gin on the desk, "Don't give me this humble crap, Albus, because it's very unbecoming."

"Is it?" He kept his tone light, but Minerva noticed the subtle change in him.

"Oh fine then, you old Bludger. It could've gone either way"

He chuckled, "Thank you." He looked up at her, and said simply, "You always were my favourite student."

She smiled, quite pink in the cheeks, "Why thankyou Albus! That means a lot to me,"

He waved a hand at her airily, "Just the truth, Min, just the truth."

"Well, then why didn't you make me a prefect?" She joked

He laughed and replied, "I respected you too much."

"Cheers, Al" She chortled, and they toasted each other once again.

"You always _were_ my favourite teacher."

He smiled, "Thank you dear. I was lucky to be a teacher you liked, the ones you didn't had quite a bit of trouble with you. I never heard the end of it in the staffroom; it could be likened to what's been said about Misters Sirius Black and James Potter."

"It could not" She said, scandalised

"It could," he told her, teasingly, "Especially the things that came from Horace!"

"Urgh, the old walrus," She rolled her eyes, "Always trying to get me to join his stupid Slugclub. He's still the same, still gets under my skin daily."

"Yes, but you've learned to control your temper these days, dear."

"Well, I am getting on a bit Al."

"Min, you're a spring chicken,"

A light knock was at the door, and the voice of Severus Snape could be heard through it, "Headmaster, should I come back later?"

"Not at all, Severus," Albus cried, opening the door with his wand, "Sit down, have a drink,"

"Git," Minerva muttered to herself

"We had a meeting booked Headmaster," Said Snape, scowling slightly, "Did you forget?"

"No of course not," he said sagely, "I was just meeting with Minerva beforehand. I'm meeting with all the heads of house, you see. Many things to discuss," Albus hiccoughed slightly as he finished his sentence, causing Snape to raise an eyebrow

"I see," He said coolly, "Minerva, I see you're in quite a state,"

She glared at him, "Severus, I see you're still a git,"

"Minerva," Albus said sternly, "Enough,"

"Oh, of course Headmaster. Merlin forbid I insult Severus after he insults me" She said as she got to her feet teetering slightly. She drew her tartan nightgown around herself, mustering all her dignity to do it. "Have a lovely meeting then, gentlemen. I'll bid you goodnight. A woman can see where she's not wanted,"

"As charming as usual, Minerva." Snape said lightly, "I'll see you on the Quidditch pitch in the morning,"

"Severus," Albus said, once again employing his stern tone, "Don't egg her on,"

"Egg me on!?" She hissed, "As if he could! I'd like to see him try!"

Snape and Dumbledore shared a glance, and then looked at McGonagall with disbelief, "Minerva, my dearest, go to bed," Albus instructed her, draining his glass, "You're absolutely – what's the word the students are using these days? Oh, yes – you're absolutely hammered!" He announced this from his chair, the paintings on the wall looking on in disapproval. Dumbledore was grinning cheerfully, quite enjoying himself.

"You're hammered, you old codger," She muttered, "Well, I'm out of here! I'll go see what Sybil is doing; at least SHE knows how to party,"

"Indeed," Snape said dryly, "Off you go then,"

"I'll see you on the pitch bright and early, Snape! Get ready to lose!" She hissed this at him, poking him in the chest as she went by. Snape rubbed it slightly when her back was turned to him. Albus hid a smile behind his hand

"Of course, Minerva." Snape's dry tone was perfect, not betraying how humorous he found her. Her hair was flying pell-mell around her head, completely free of their restraints, her glasses were on upside down, and her tartan robe was done up haphazardly over her nightgown. In all honestly, Severus Snape had never seen Minerva McGonagall so utterly... wild.

She stormed down the staircase, and shot over her shoulder, "SLEEP TIGHT ALBUS, YOU TRAITOR!"

"GOODNIGHT DEAR!" He called back. He smiled up at Snape, "Isn't she delightful?"

Snape pursed his lips, and shook his head, "I would say, 'forget about our meeting,' but it's apparent that you already have," Dumbledore chuckled and shrugged, and went to sip his refilled glass of gin. Snape was quicker though, and lifted it from the desk before he could pursue it. He gave Dumbledore a piercing look, "I'll be round in the morning with a hangover cure potion. The school will be expecting you to attend to Quidditch Cup final tomorrow,"

Dumbledore sighed, eyeing Minerva's glass across from him. He considered whether or not he would be able to get to it quicker than Severus would. He didn't like his chances "Oh I suppose you're right. It is time to call it a night."

Snape Vanished the gin glasses in a quick wand-wave, and stalked out of the headmaster's office, shaking his head and muttering about "a complete lack of common sense and a sheer lack of taste for drinking partners"

* * *

Fin ^__^


End file.
